Ghost
by IntoTheWilds
Summary: ONE-SHOT!: Born into an unforgiving world, Spencer Reid has been tossed pillar to post and has learnt long ago that hiding ones true self is the key to a safer existence. But along the way, he crossed the wrong mutant and now the feral is out for revenge. Or so they thought.-REST OF SUMMARY INSIDE-GENDER BENDER WARNING!


DISCLAIMER:**I do not own Criminal Minds/X-Men or their characters!**

SUMMARY: **Born into an unforgiving world, Spencer Reid has been tossed pillar to post and has learnt long ago that hiding ones true self is the key to a safer existence. But along the way, he crossed the wrong mutant and now the feral is out for revenge. Or so they thought.**

**On a routine raid, Spencer is hurt and he has no choice but to reveal who he is to the team and seek help from the infamous X-Men, who the team are horrified to learn, their loved youngest is a part of.**

**Two worlds collide and Spencer flounders. But there is a new face and with it, comes love and an acceptance he has never fully known, because she knows Spencer in ways no one ever would.**

**Beauty and his beast have come together and they are ready for anything...**

AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I had this up and due to inspiration taking a nosedive into a deep dark crevice I took it down. A fan pleaded with me to at least repost the chapters I had done, so I'm putting them back up as a ONE-SHOT. I may come back to it, or if not, I may use Ghost again. Keep reading my flowers! :D**

**IntoTheWilds**

**xxx**

* * *

**_Las Vegas, Nevada, Year: 1995:_**

The grass was cool beneath the pads of her feet and the moon was full above her, a shining beacon in an otherwise dark sky, stars stolen by the bright lights of Las Vegas. Eighteen years old Penelope Garcia had once again fled from her San Franciscan home and this time had ended up in Las Vegas of all places. In honesty, the place never mattered, it was the getting away part that did and boy she had been running ever since her parent's deaths.

"Miss you mom, pops," the teen sniffled lifting her hands and letting the rose petals in her hands float away on the wind.

Penelope wiped away the last dregs of her misery and stood up to leave, which was when she saw him. He had never noticed her, his body hunched over as if he were trying to hold himself together. Barely fourteen, the boy looked so fragile and was clearly a mutant. His clothes were tattered, but still it didn't take away from his beauty. His skin was alabaster white, a snowy cascade of hair falling about an angular face and when his head snapped up Penelope froze in place, petrified by the most bizarre, yet beautiful eyes she had ever seen. There was no white, only blue, bright electric blue and the pupils were non-existent. They were eerie, yet hypnotising. With a straggled sound, the boy surged to his feet and Penelope finally found her voice.

"No! Wait, I...I won't hurt you!"

He went still.

"I-I'm Penelope, um, Penny if you like, what's your name?"

He hesitated, body taunt and ready to go at the first sign of danger. His eerie eyes searched her face and Penelope couldn't help but think he was reading her somehow. A moment later, he had clearly found his answer and croaked a response, "G-Ghost...Everyone calls me Ghost."

Penelope beamed brightly. Despite her gothic appearance, her bubbly nature exuded from her and the teenager responded to the security of it. Her bad ass attitude was NOT needed here, "Are you hungry Ghost? Um, I've got some things here, not much, but you look as if you could use a bite."

Cautious, the boy walked toward her and the closer he got, the gaunter looking Penelope realised he was and the more she saw barely hidden marks. There were bruises on his wrists, some on his throat and his right eye was yellowed by one that was still healing. His clothes weren't as tattered as they first appeared, just well worn, and a couple of sizes too big and it dawned on Penelope that he was a foster kid. She, however, didn't ask. Reaching into the back pack at her feet, the eighteen year old produced a bag of salad sandwiches, apples, a flask of iced tea and a box of cookies. She divided the treasure trove between them and as she expected, the second Ghost had given thanks, he wolfed into it, as if he hadn't seen food in days.

"How long have you been on the streets?" He hadn't, a bell in her head was ringing out in warning, but it was the best way she figured on opening him up.

And what do you know? It worked!

"I'm not on the streets," Ghost responded, "Foster care, where food is scarce if the other kids want to make it scarce."

"How long have you been in foster care?"

"Two years. I was adopted, but then my mom got ill and when they found out, they took me off her."

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen," Ghost swallowed the last of his apple and lifted a cookie, "And you Penny? What brings you to Las Vegas?"

"My parents were killed a few months ago and I just, I needed to get away from home."

"Ah, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Penelope rested herself back into a more comfortable position and set her dark blue hues on the boy's pretty face. "Have you no family at all?"

"Back to me again huh?" Ghost laughed and Penelope found she really liked the sound. "I have blood relations yeah, two brothers who have fought to get me since I was a baby, but legally they can't act as my guardians."

Penelope scowled, "Why not?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I mean, I understand the process and I figure they're being fools about it just because...well...because we're mutants." Ghost swallowed. "They have no real legal standing to keep me from my brothers, but neither can I legally do a damn thing about it. So I'm binding my time till I'm eighteen and then I can go live with them."

"Dicks," Penelope groused taking a swig of iced tea like it was gin, "Narrow minded idiots. It's not fair."

"Life is rarely fair Penny," Ghost pointed out, "And it'll _never_ be fair for mutants."

Getting to his feet Ghost smiled pleasantly down at Penelope. She got her first look at extremely deadly looking canines and while she was distracted, the youth reached beneath the collar of his over-sized t-shirt and produced a chain, with an Angel hanging from the silver, her wings glittering brightly in the moon-light.

"Here," the boy said slipping the chain over Penelope's neck, "For the first friend I've had in years. She'll protect you."

"Ghost, I can't accept this."

"Yes you can," With a warm smile he bent and kissed her forehead, "Farewell Penny, I hope we meet again." And in a flurry of white smoke the boy was gone.

Penelope gasped surging to her feet. She could almost hear his laughter in the wind, could still feel the press of his lips against her skin and yet she almost wondered if she had dreamt the boy. But no, the warm weight of the Angel against the tops of her breasts was enough to tell her he was real.

It wasn't until two days later that she heard about the park rapist slash killer who had been found that very same night chained up to a tree not ten feet away from where she had been and it was then she knew Ghost had quite possibly saved her life.

Like him, she truly hoped they would cross paths again.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

**_Quantico, Virginia: Present Day:_**

Spencer Reid was for all intents and purposes a very calm person—usually; today however, that wasn't the case. It took quite a bit to get under his skin, of course half the time he never noticed anyone was attempting to even get under his skin, which was possibly a good thing, because though rare, his temper was truly something to behold. Today was just one of those days, where it was simmering rather close to the surface.

It was raining heavily, nothing short of a monsoon and naturally his car wouldn't start. He missed the train by about a minute and already late for work, he had no option but to take the route on foot, which in the rain with a lack of umbrella, was not pleasant. Coffee was supposed to fix his mood, it was supposed to solve everything, but naturally someone in the cosmos hated him, because not three seconds out the door but an ass on his cell knocked into him and bye-bye coffee. With no time to replace it, it went forgotten and finally making it into the familiar FBI building, he headed up to the correct floor just in time to meet up with Derek Morgan.

Naturally the man had something to say. "Whoa pretty boy, what happened to you?"

"The mother of all bad days," the thirty-two year old groused in response, furious to find he was dripping everywhere! "Do we have a case?"

"No kid, just paper work to catch up on, go get dried up and there'll be a cup of coffee on your desk when you get back."

A positively dreamy look came upon Spencer's face, "You're the best you know that?"

"You'd tell the devil that so long as he had coffee," Derek teased shooing him away, "now go on and change, before Pen sees you, the woman will have a fit if she finds you like this."

Laughing the younger man tossed his go bag over his shoulder and headed straight for the men's restroom. No one was about and so Spencer locked the door and began stripping from his sodden clothing. His creamy skin was flushed with the cold and the shivers had finally kicked in. Grabbing a towel from a shelf in the corner, the genius dried himself, giving his lengthy brunette curls a harsh rub and tossing the towel aside he redressed sighing in relief when warmth flooded his lithe frame. Spencer hated the cold, hated _being_ cold and always had. Too many times had he discovered just how deep into you the cold could get, until it clung to your bones and warmth no longer existed.

With his hair still pretty much soaked, Spencer did a rare thing and gathered it up tying it back away from his face. His watch jangled on his wrist, the face slightly damp, not that it mattered. The device was built to withstand quite a bit, especially water. With no one to see, the boy reached down and twisted the shell of the face anti-clockwise. It shifted easily, though looked as if it shouldn't move at all, and once it lined up the way Spencer wanted, his form shimmered briefly and the glamour the watch put out disappeared, showing the truth beneath. Alabaster white skin, snow coloured hair and bright, pupiless, electric blue eyes that had seen way too much. Ghost stared back at Spencer, and Spencer stared back at Ghost, one and the same, a fact he wished often weren't true.

Garcia had never noticed, never realised who he was, the boy from all those years ago and for that Spencer was glad. That night, he hadn't been there by accident. Even now the vision was burned into a corner of his mind, all that hatred, the blood and Penelope's visceral screams. He had seen it, seen it before it could occur, and was determined to prevent it from happening.

What he hadn't expected, was how kindly Penelope had treated him, just like any other person. It had thrown him off some. He had intended to simply whisk her away and disappear. He certainly had never meant to speak to her, or tell her so much and he had _never_ intended to give her his Angel, which, even now, the bubbly woman wore about her neck and whenever anyone asked about it, she would simply smile and tell them an old friend gave it to her. But events had turned out the way they had, and the faiths had brought them together again and in Penelope Garcia he had found a rather unusual but deep seeded friendship and though she deserved to know the truth, for her own protection, she would never know what he hid beneath a simple yet effective hologram.

Switching the device back on, Spencer gathered up his belongings and slipped back into the bull-pen. As promised, Derek had left him a hot mug of steaming coffee, sweetened to his liking and with it, at least three of the Agent's files snuck in with Spencer's. Silently chortling to himself, Spencer let it go and pulled the first file toward him and got to work.

It was roughly ten minutes past eleven when JJ burst from her office, a whirlwind of determination and a file clutched in her arms. From across the bull-pen, Alex lifted her head throwing a glance toward Spencer who was looking just as nonplussed. Truthfully, Spencer could've easily found out what was in those files, but he didn't like prying with his powers unless he absolutely had to. Not that it mattered anyway, not five minutes later both Hotch and JJ emerged from Hotch's office, expressions grim.

"Conference room, now," their Unit Chief barked stalking toward it himself without waiting for the others.

Alex got Derek and Rossi, while Spencer retrieved Penelope and once the entire team were seated, JJ got the ball rolling. Reaching for the slim silver remote, the blonde directed it toward the screen and every inch of Spencer's blood ran cold. The building had never really changed much, but for him it represented six years of pure hell, McGuire's Foster home for boys, charred and warped now from an obvious fire.

"In thirty years, the McGuire's took in over fifty troubled boys in need of a home." JJ began a look of disgust on her face. "And this morning a grave was discovered not far from Las Vegas filled with twenty-nine of those youths, some old, some fresh. The house was burnt last night and with it the records are pretty much gone, but we salvaged enough to locate the others, bar one. The last boy the McGuire's ever took in and the only mutant."

"Why would the mutant matter more so than the others?" Rossi asked confused.

"Because all the other victims were branded with what is now considered the mark of the mutants, one quite a few prouder mutants get tattooed on their skin," JJ explained, "LVPD thinks this is all for the mutant boy and they want us to find him."

Spencer went completely rigid. Thankfully, no one noticed, too busy listening to what JJ had to say. Oh God, after all these years would the team finally know the truth about whom and what he was? He felt sick at the very idea. Heart hammering, he thought about running, but what exactly would that achieve? And then JJ said the last thing he expected to hear.

"We have a photo from when he was about fourteen, but no identification, none of the other fosters could tell me anything either and the McGuire's died in the fire. All they could tell me? The kid went by the name Ghost."

Spencer saw the instant Penelope realised who they were talking about and when JJ finally brought his photo up, it only cemented it for her.

"Well I can see why he used the name Ghost," Derek commented flicking through the file, "They found journal entries from Alice McGuire."

Alex opened her file and began to read, "..._'Ghost is a quiet boy, scared, but with a lot simmering underneath. My husband doesn't trust him, said the boy is just too powerful and looks like he possesses the devil behind those strange blue eyes, like lightening those eyes._

_Simon told me not to, but I questioned Ghost about his abilities. It took a while, but he finally opened up and told me. It sure is a long list, possession, clairvoyance, empathy, illusions, telepathy, and teleportation._

_He told me; in a single touch he can download a person's entire life like a computer, can be corporal or non-corporal and can absorb massive amounts of energy at a time and use it as a sort of energy blast from his hands. Oh! And he can project memories from the mind, or an object and let a scene play out. I've seen him do it, and it's quite remarkable._

_Simon saw it too got awful mad that day and marked the poor boy proper. My husband never raised a hand to the other boys, he just doesn't like Ghost. Simon says Ghost is either a Class four or class five mutant, I don't really understand that at all, I just know it means he's very, very strong.'..." _Alex set the file down and sighed audibly. "That's an awful lot of power in one person."

"What does she mean about the classes?" Rossi asked. He didn't know all that much about mutants.

"Mutant's are fit into classes' power wise," Spencer explained calmer now that he realised his identity was safe, "Most are either class one, two or three, and then the rest are four. Class five is the highest and I honestly don't know how many fall under it." _Liar_, his brain hissed, he knew of two and only two, Jean Grey and himself, his powers had branched out a little since then. Since then he could add telekinesis and shields to his list—with all that brimming below the surface, wouldn't emotional turmoil just be oodles of fun?

Derek frowned and drew everyone's attention with a worried, "Baby girl?"

Penelope jumped as if electrocuted and when she saw everyone's eyes on her she flushed crimson.

"What is it Garcia?" JJ asked using the voice she tended to use on an upset Henry.

"I, eh, I know him."

Well didn't that just throw them all for a loop, "from where Pen?" Derek questioned gently, hackles raised. If the kid had hurt her, he'd find him, just to tear him asunder!

"Las Vegas, years ago," Penelope explained, "He, eh, he was only fourteen and I was eighteen. He looked a few days short of a meal, so I shared what I had and we got to talking. He talked about two brothers, and an adoptive mom who was sick and couldn't take care of him anymore. He had ended up in foster care because of it and he...well...he gave me this." Penelope reached down and plucked the Angel free from where it was tangled with everything else and pulling it off, the bubbly blonde laid it flat on the table.

"He gave you this?" Rossi asked reaching for it and examining the piece.

"Yes and then he just, disappeared, teleported I think. I never saw him again. But, I...we didn't meet by accident."

"What do you mean baby girl?"

"There was a man there that night. He had been attacking young women for weeks and I didn't find out till a couple of days later that the man had been there that night. He had been incapacitated and arrested and I think it was this kid, coming to my rescue." Penelope swallowed. "Also, that brand, it may be a mark for mutants, but the guy also had one. I remember from the papers, he had it on the left side of his throat."

"Then this is all about revenge. He wants the mutant who stopped him, and this way he can lure his attention." Hotch scowled. "Then, that makes you a target also Garcia."

Garcia blanched, "W-What, but, how?"

"He could see you as the one that got away," Derek explained gently.

"Either way, you're coming with us to Las Vegas, wheels up in twenty."

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

Three days. They had been in Las Vegas three God damn sucktastic days and with nothing to show for it. Their Unsub was unidentifiable. On arrest, he had no prints in the system and apart from a rough description, and the fact he was clearly a mutant, they had nothing. A quick looky look also turned up the Unsub's escape that occurred not two days _after _his arrest back in nineteen-ninety-five. He took down five armed guards and though eye witnesses claimed they had opened fire, he had walked away without a scratch. Having said all this, Spencer knew who they were dealing with and he was keeping that information to himself. The BAU were not equipped to take this particular mutie down, which was why he was keeping his lip zipped, and funnelling the information gathered to the people who _were_equipped.

By day five they were getting a little cabin fever. Derek was so steamed that the man was getting twitchy. Rossi had reverted to grumbling irritably in Italian and Garcia with little to be doing was very nearly climbing the walls in sheer frustration. The others were merely on edge. There had been no new victims, no sightings and Hotch was ready to throw in the towel when a call came in.

Their Unsub had been sighted in New York. Of course he had! Because all they needed now to add to such a spectacular week was an almost five hour flight, to land in a yet another bustling city, where the chances of finding him were slim to nada. The nutso-metre climbed another notch, and disgruntled beyond belief, the BAU team bid farewell to Las Vegas and boarded the jet to their new destination and hoped this time would produce results.

Sleepily Spencer flipped through the file in hands, jumping when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it free, the gangly youth took in the name above the text and grinned in delight.

**_-Got your message Spook, Cyke and I are gonna look into it, Wolvie's wound tight. -Alex_**

_-Can't blame him really. This **is **Creed we're talking about. The man is bad news! There's been a change, he was sighted in New York, the team and I on our way there now. You really need to find him, before we do and for the love of all that is holy STOP calling me Spook! –Spencer_

**_-;) And why would I when it pisses you off so bad Spoooooooooook? Shit! Shitty, shit, shit, absolutely shitastic! Of course that furry SOB is here, like we haven't enough shit going on with Mutant registration campaigns and complete fucktards causing issues. Damn it Ghost, we didn't get to her in time. –Alex_**

A momentary pain crossed over Spencer's features and he cursed feverishly inside. Alex was referring to a recent event of a fifteen year old girl just coming into her powers, and a bunch of thugs with a God complex. Spencer had been the one to send them in the right direction, but clairvoyance was a pain in the ass, in the sense, you never had an exact time frame. In other words, your victim could be dead or in the process of dying anywhere between the next five minutes and several days. Spencer knew he had done all he could, knew it wasn't his fault, and yet that seed of guilt still planted itself deep within his heart, huddling up close to the others he had failed over the years.

_-What was her name? –Spencer_

**_-Naomi. It was quick kiddo, they didn't torture her, just killed her out-right. Emma and Storm are with the parents at the minute took us a while to find them since Naomi was a street kid the last few weeks. This isn't your fault Spook; DO NOT take the blame for something fully out of your control. –Alex_**

_-I know Alex, I know, it doesn't stop me feeling guilty though. –Spencer_

**_-I know kiddo. Anyway, I gotta get back to this. Gave the old feral a heads up while we were texting, so heading out with Wolvie and Rems to see if we can't track this bastard, you know where we are if you need anything, just give us a mental holler and we'll be there quick as flash. Later Spook! –Alex_**

_-Stop calling me Spook! And yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Bye Alex. –Spencer_

**_-You know you lurves it ;) –Alex_**

Chuckling at that final text, Spencer didn't bother replying. If he did, he and Alex would end up in a full blown verbal warfare and something he had learnt from his youth? Such a thing could last for days if both men were in pig headed enough moods and neither wanted to give in. But it was good times all around and hey, they were brothers after all. Spencer was the youngest child of Christopher and Katherine Summers. His older brothers were Scott and Alex Summers and when he was six months old, he had been left in the care of his Great Aunt Bernadette and during that time his parents died in a plane crash, his brothers injured. The remaining family were quick to adopt them out and Spencer often wondered was that because of him? After all, his mutation was apparent from the day he was born thanks to his physical appearance. His brothers always told him it wasn't his fault, but the thought remained.

He was almost ten months old when William and Diana Reid adopted him. Neither had a problem with mutants, and they had fallen in love with the infant almost instantly and then when he was ten that had all gone to hell when his mother's mental illness spiralled fully out of control. By twelve he was back in the foster care system, only to finally go home to his brothers when he turned eighteen. Over the years Spencer had been in touch with Scott and Alex and Scott had made sure to sort visitation as soon as he could. Even as a teen the gangly youth could make him be heard when the need arose, which it often did.

Before going to the academy, Spencer was inducted into the X-Men and trained by some of the best. Even now it made him smile. What would the team think if they knew Spencer was one of the most lethal fighters ever to be an X-Man? They'd most likely NOT believe it, hell; he hardly believed it himself half the time. Though he was an FBI agent now, Spencer still helped his old team wherever he could and nine times out of ten, they were successful. Pity when it didn't always go their way.

"Reid?"

Jumping right out of his skin, Spencer's head snapped around and he realised it was only Morgan. "Jesus Morgan! Warn a guy!"

"Sorry pretty boy," the elder Agent chortled taking a seat across from the brunette, settling the file down the table between him, "Please tell me that genius brain of yours is working overtime and solving this case."

"Sorry Morgan, for once I'm as stumped as you."

Liar, liar pants on fire as Alex would've said had he been there. Spencer hated lying to them. They deserved damn better, but handling mutants out of control was not a game the BAU or any non-mutant needed to get involved with. He had too often seen what happened when the ill equipped went up against an advanced being, the advanced being _always_ won.

With a long insufferable sigh, Morgan splayed his file wide open and searched through the pictures, "I don't get it. Our oldest victim is from nineteen-ninety-five, our youngest almost four years ago. The McGuire's were killed only a week ago, but it's as if that was, I don't know, a temper tantrum, as if the Unsub is going around in circles."

A frown furrowed Spencer's brows, "You don't think he's looking for Ghost do you?"

"No kid," Derek admitted shaking his head, "I think he's looking for something else entirely. The question though, is what?"

Spencer didn't know and Derek's assumption fell in with his own. After all he had never thought Creed was after him. He had crossed the mutant on more than one occasion, the furry bastard knew where he was if he wanted a game of cat and mouse. No, he had killed those men for kicks, because to Creed it was all a game, with no real logic and it had no relevance to the current case. Spencer had a deep seeded feeling that the McGuire's was simply a coincidence, which meant nothing. Then something clicked in Spencer's lightening fast brain and thanks to years of practice he managed to keep it off of his facial expression. This never had anything to do with any particular victimology, or revenge. No, Creed's little messy display was to keep them busy, distracted. But not just anyone, no, the feral mutant wanted the X-Men kept busy. The question was, why?

Spencer didn't know, but he sure as hell intended to find out.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

Wolverine landed on his toes, body adjusting to the drop with an ease the feral mutant was used too as he came down from the rather large tree. Alex, or Havok and Remy AKA Gambit weren't too far behind, geared up and a little more than grouchy after such a craptastic afternoon. Creed was officially screwing with them. They had quite literally chased him all over the city and had lost his scent near Central Park, only for it to crop up again the other side of the huge green area a couple of hours later. But this aroma was faint, almost impossible to catch, as if Creed had left his scent on something or someone as the case may be because Wolverine had caught the sudden rustic scent of fresh blood.

"Someone's here," The feral sniffed, "And they're hurt."

"Don't suppose ol' toothie had a run in with some po' defenceless _homme _or _femme_?" Remy asked irritably, cards dancing between his palms.

"It's a female," Wolverine continued, "She's bleeding too, and not far from here."

Wolverine picked up the pace. He couldn't tell if the blood loss was large, but he knew she had been walking while bleeding, dried brown speckling the Earth here and there. What the feral couldn't understand was the clear fact that she had literally materialised out of nowhere because her scent had simply appeared, since he could smell mutant off her that probably had something to do with it. With his heightened senses, Wolverine was the first to hear her, pained cries filling his ears. Twisting east, the feral took off at a run deeper into the forestry of Central park and that's where he found her. She had found the most secluded spot she could, her body curled up on her side and—Christ—an indigo tail flicked back and forth in time with her moans. It was the most he could see of her, since the rest of her was shrouded by a huge overcoat. Another step and she knew he was there. The girl's head snapped up knocking her hood back. Blue-black loose ringlets spilled free, framing an angular face, luminous yellow eyes wide with sheer terror, tears tracking through what Wolverine realised was a fine layer of blue fur. A single gold hoop hung from one elfin like ear and she looked as if she hadn't seen a good meal in days. At the sound of new voices she went rigid, her eyes darting to the spot over Wolverine's right shoulder.

"God dam Wolvie, where's de fire? Slow—" Remy shut up at the sight of the girl, Havok right on his heels. Poor thing couldn't have been any older than twenty and she was trembling fiercely. "Easy dere _petit,_" the Cajun crooned gently, "we're not gonna hurt y' _non_, Wolvie here smelt y' _petit_, says y'r hurt, would y' let m' take a look? I'll come as close as y' let m' _Cher_, but no closer, _D'accord_?"

Alex and Logan knew better than to interfere. The girl was nothing short of terrified and out of the three of them, the old Cajun was the only one who would be able to put her at ease, even without the help of his empathy. She seemed quite reluctant at first, her bright eyes darting between the three of them, but she clearly understood her options and they were the lesser of two evils. Swallowing, the blue furred girl nodded and with a warm smile, Remy made his way across the green, careful to watch for a signal in case she wanted him to stop, but no, she seemed willing to let him close enough to touch. Crouching down Remy's red and black eyes took a quick inventory and to his keen eyes he could see no marks on her and then she hissed curling in on herself, a surprisingly three figured hand clutching her very, very swollen middle and by her squirming it was obvious what was happening.

Remy barked a curse, "Wolvie! De _femme_ is in labour!"

"She's what?" Squawked and suddenly pale Alex, tough guy he may be, but not in these sorts of situations, "Sweet shit! I'll call Jean—Remy, what in the blue fuck are you doing?!"

Remy was ignoring the shrill tone of his near hysterical friend and had removed his battered trench coat, helping the female onto it in an effort to make her comfortable, "F'get Jeannie," he called out after checking the mutant's progress, "dis pup ain't gonna wait, can already see de head, me."

Logan had joined the Cajun and for all intents and purposes he was perfectly calm. Alex was stumped. He couldn't believe it, but the two mutants looked as if they honestly knew what they were doing. On Remy's suggestion, Logan wriggled in behind the petite female and used his body to support her. Too far into it, her body one big owie, she no longer cared who was around.

"Alex, y' look as if y'r gonna be sick _homme_. Go get de jet ready _Cher_, ol' Wolvie and I got dis."

Wolverine chuckled in amusement when Alex all but flew back up the way they had come. Never had he seen the kid so freaked. It was amazing, after everything they had all seen and dealt with, and a woman giving birth was what turned his stomach? Imagine! Breathing heavily, the mutant in question leant back against Wolverine's chest, her muscles loosening a little when the latest contraction subsided. He could still smell Creed and he realised, it was her he was getting it from, three guesses who the pup belonged to so.

"What's y'r name _petit_?" Remy asked stroking her knee. He let his empathy wash over her in an effort to ease her pain.

"K-Katja," She croaked her accent thick with Germany, "Katja Wagner. Nnn _Scheiße_!" Katja cursed jerking forward, her whole body shuddering with the force of her agony.

Remy soothed and coaxed, pushing as much good energy into her as he could until finally the infant slipped free from Katja's body into the Cajun's awaiting arms, her tiny body squirming, fists punching the air as the baby cried out in fury. Remy laughed out loud, the child all but fit into one of his hands she was so small, at least three weeks premature by the looks of her, her body was covered in a fine layer of white fur, a tail coiling about his wrist and a thatch of silver curls sat atop of her head between rather large cat-like ears. The baby's eyes were sky blue with slitted pupils, all and all, she was a humanoid kitten and grinning Remy settled the squirming bundle into Katja's arms. Logan removed his jacket and offered it as a temporary blanket. Katja crooned over the baby and so tired, she didn't protest when Logan carefully scooped her up.

She and the baby were asleep before they even made it to the jet.

Boarding the blackbird, Logan settled the exhausted mutant down and jerked his hand at Remy, "Stay with her Gumbo."

"Y' got it Wolvie."

"She had it?" Alex asked from the pilot seat, still a tad green looking.

"Yes, a girl, with no help from you chicken shit."

"Bite me Logan!"

Laughing the feral took his seat and cast a glance back at Remy, his sapphire hues dropping briefly on the sleeping infant. He sighed audibly, "I can smell Creed on the pup."

Remy's head snapped up and his jaw dropped, "_Merde_, y' don't t'ink dats why he's here?"

"Everything is property to that piece of shit, even people. So if she ran from him, bet your ass he's here to take her back."

"Damn it, dat would explain her fear. _Mon Dieu_, I know a _femme_ t' be wary, but de fear coming off her Wolvie, I nearly couldn't breathe with de force of it."

"Son of a bitch," Alex cursed his expression deadly. "Well, least she's safe now. Incidentally, where'd you two learn how to deliver a baby?"

"Gumbo did the delivering, I was merely moral support."

Remy shrugged a shoulder, "Been around births before, me, back as a pup. Y' tend t' remember a t'ing or two." He nodded down at the pair in his arms. "Let's get outta here _hommes_; I'll be much happier when Jeannie takes a look at dem both."

Seconding that motion, Alex and Logan started up the engines and the blackbird purred to life. They were airborne within seconds and while Logan called home informing them of the situation, Katja and her daughter remained lost in dreams, safe for the first time in weeks.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

It was late into day five when finally something happened. Around the same time Remy was playing midwife Creed had been sighted around the docks and Spencer was having a heart attack because the team were gearing up to go check it out and he couldn't call in the X-Men in case it turned up nothing, because the fall out was not worth thinking about. Strapping his vest over himself, Spencer checked his ear piece and filed into an SUV along with Derek, JJ and Alex. Hotch and Rossi took the other, with Garcia being left behind and thankfully they weren't treating this as all hands on deck because only the BAU were checking it out, which meant if the shit did hit the fan, it wouldn't go to hell as bad as it could. As per usual, Derek drove like a bat out of hell, Hotch keeping time behind them with skilled ease. The buildings of New York flashed by, while the odd pedestrian threw curious glances toward the blaring vehicles that flew by and before Spencer knew it, they were parked outside a rather decrepit looking warehouse. Climbing from the SUV, he unholstered his gun and followed Derek toward the building, Alex flanking him. Without the others knowing what he was doing, he reached out with his telepathy and searched but couldn't find Creed. His relief was palpable almost and a little more relaxed, Spencer secured the perimeter. The second they were passed the door he knew something was wrong and he barely had time to send out a mental call for help when a large body slammed into his own and sent him flying.

After that it was pretty much in slow motion. He was launched over the metal barrier only feet from the main door to find a sheer drop on the other side. He could see a set of rickety stairs off to his left, could hear the frantic shouts of his team mates and got a nice look of Victor Creed's malicious mug before an unforgiving ground came rushing up to meet them. The sudden contact hurt like a bitch and for a moment Spencer couldn't breathe. Of course he fared better than most would've. His body was sturdier than a non-mutant and where a normal human would have suffered shattered bones at least, Spencer was left with a mess of bruises. Too bad the same couldn't be said for his Image inducer.

The device that had hidden his identity for years came in contact with cold cement, and naturally the cement won. It came apart, parts scattering here there and everywhere and with a hiccupped shimmer, Spencer's disguise fell away leaving his true form visible. Creed sneered in delight.

"How do Ghost, long time no see ya spooky bastard!"

Spencer could hear the rapid footsteps of Hotch and the rest. They were still calling his name, but his attention was firmly on the heavy son of a bitch straddling his thin frame. He didn't even grace his greeting with a response. Instead he planted a converse covered foot against his sternum and kicked. Stronger than he looked, Spencer easily moved Creed and the feral yelped as he was thrown backward, landing feet away, standing the team got a proper look at their youngest and they were nothing short of stunned.

"Kid," Morgan spluttered eyes wide.

"Spence," JJ shook her head completely confused and the others simply stood transfixed.

But Spencer paid them no heed, no; his attention was fully on the leering mutant before him. Tossing aside his gun, the snowy haired youth relaxed his stance.

"Reid!" Morgan shouted. "Are you insane? Pick up your gun!"

"It won't help," Spencer responded evenly, "he heals too fast. You got some mutant to shield this place?" Spencer asked directing his last words toward Creed.

"Naturally and it's handy. You don't know it's there unless you know the signature. Your mind will recognise it the next time of course, well," a dangerous sneer curled the feral's lips, "if there _is_ a next time."

Spencer snorted, "This isn't about me Sabretooth. You've never sought me out before."

"True Ghost, this is actually a happy coincidence. I'm actually here to retrieve some property of mine that went AWOL, but I'm willing to take a moment to rip your heart out."

The watching agents were positively stunned. Spencer merely laughed at the threat as if it were nothing, which was not like their favourite genius at all! Gone was the placid, nervous brunette and in his place stood an ethereally beautiful being, with no fear of the present danger, a bright fire pulsing with the liquid blue of his eyes.

"You never learn do you Creed?" Spencer laughed shaking his head.

"What can I say Ghost? I enjoy these little dances of ours."

The roar was enough to make the other agents step back and with impressive agility, the blonde mutant tore toward Spencer, his claws scraping against the stone as he hurtled forward on all fours. He leaped skyward, coming down with a bellow and ignoring his friends strangled exclamations, Spencer winked and disappeared in a flurry of white and silver smoke. He materialised the other side of the room grinning dangerously and from there it was a hell of a show. Spencer dodged every attack that Creed dished out, but when he went on the offensive it was something else entirely. Creed was huge compared to the lithe mutant, but Spencer was well able to keep up with him.

"Come on old man," Spencer taunted panting heavily, "I thought you had more fight in you than that." A tingle went over Spencer's senses and it was enough to distract him, which in turn proved lethal.

With a bellow Creed launched himself forward and got a hand about Spencer's throat. Before he could react, a needle bit into his thigh causing Spencer to yelp. He felt him push down on the plunger and just like that his body was on fire. The world blurred, and with a groan, Spencer tried to pull away, but Creed wasn't done yet. Yanking the boy forward, Creed snarled in his ear, "One word, Pow-R8."

Spencer's eyes went wide in horror and he realised how much trouble he was in. Already he could feel the tainted drink coursing through his body, bringing pain and sickness. Damage done, Creed tossed the mutant away and motor function shot to hell, Spencer hit the ground with a heavy thump. Creed tossed the syringe next to him and with a final leer; he was booking for the back entrance. With an agent down, the mutant was forgotten.

"Reid, kid, can you hear me?" Morgan spluttered dropping down next to Spencer's fallen body. "Shit! Hotch; he's burning up pretty bad!"

"P-Poison," Spencer croaked the best he could and then a touch against his mind almost had him weeping in relief, "SCOTT!"

The doors burst open and the BAU got the second shocking surprise of the evening when four people piled into the room. Morgan reared up putting his weight between Spencer and the newcomers, but that proved pointless when he was shoved aside by an invisible force. He was quick to learn, the red head had almost knocked him on his ass, green eyes fierce. A tall youth, taller than Spencer but not as slender dropped down next to the writhing male and paid no mind to the blonde throwing him daggers, or any of the others.

"S-Scott," Spencer whimpered.

"I'm here kid, I'm here." The one name Scott cooed gently gathering up Spencer's skinny weight, "What happened half-pint, where are you hurt?"

"Needle," Spencer groaned breathing coming harder now, "Pow-R8."

The colour drained from Scott's face and head snapping around he hollered an order at one of the remaining females, "Rogue, get the medi-kit!"

"Ah'm on it fearless!" The southern female drawled before dashing out the way they had come.

Morgan couldn't take this, "What the fuck is going on? Who the hell are you?!"

"I don't think that really matters at present," the red head snapped in retort.

"Easy Jean," Scott said gently before a pained sound drew his gaze. "There no concern right now. Hey, hey Spencer, come now kid, you need to stay awake."

"C-Can't...Tired...Can't...Breathe."

"Listen, listen kid, hold on for just a second okay, just a second?"

Hotch, Morgan, Alex, JJ and Rossi kept back watching the entire thing astounded. There friend was not only a mutant, but by the sounds of him he was slowly dying right before their eyes and neither had called in the paramedics, because why? They all knew that answer. Being a mutant put a target on his back and none of them wanted to aim the gun.

"Spencer!"

The sudden strangled sound from the one called Scott had them looking down in horror and just like that it got a whole lot worse...Their beloved genius had stopped breathing.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

Awareness returned slowly, and with it several things became known. Grimacing, Katja sucked in a breath and waited for the fist in her belly to loosen, burying her face in the plump pillow behind her head in order to stifle a whimper. Her hunger was fierce, tearing her insides to shreds, dragging nausea forward along with it, but after four months on the streets Katja was used to it. Of course the aches from the recent birth were not helping either. Like most mornings, the sensation passed eventually and the mutant was able to breathe easier. Panting a little, Katja untangled herself from her covers and looked around in mild bewilderment. According to a clock to her right she had only been asleep a couple of hours and she was in a large bedroom. The walls were mushroom brown, with fine carpet and plush furnishings. Katja had a vague memory of them moving her here while she was half asleep and kicking the quilt completely off she got horizontal.

When the room pitched, she wasn't the least bit surprised. It was going to take a little more than a saline drip and a stew broth to get her energy levels back up. First thing was first—food. Her daughter was in an incubator down in the infirmary under the careful eye of a friendly mutant who had introduced himself as Beast. She was having minor trouble with her breathing and regulating her body temperature, so it was for the best, though it killed Katja to be away from her. Once she had eaten, she was heading down to see her.

Deciding she was perfectly presentable with her tussled hair, crumpled fur and wrinkled clothing, Katja left the room, silent as a mouse. The burgundy carpet felt lovely against the soft pads of her pawed toes and no longer did the girl feel an overwhelming cold clawing at her bones. It was heaven compared to the streets she had come to know. Stopping, the female stared horrified. Her reflection looked back at her from a huge antique mirror hung on the wall across from her door, the sight was appalling. She could've been a poster child for the third world! Even in a t-shirt and cut-offs, her emaciated condition was obvious. Her cheeks were disgustingly hollow, eyes sunken, the canary yellow shade almost lifeless, like that of a dying woman. Even through the tee, Katja could see each of her ribs and the sharp points of her hip bones. Her mid-riff was practically non-existent accept for the sagging flesh of what had been a heavily pregnant belly only the day before, with muscles and fat a figment of her imagination. It was an absolute miracle she or her baby was still alive.

Swallowing, she shook her head. In a few weeks things would be different, she'd get back to her former health. Katja turned away from the corpse like image, and sucked in a breath. Things happened pretty quickly. Two teens came hurtling around the corner laughing and joking, a blonde and a brunette. The blonde lost his footing and the next Katja knew he was slamming into her with the force of a cannonball, sending them both smashing to the ground in a painful heap.

The wind forcefully knocked out of her, the soft carpet breaking the worst of her fall, Katja placed a faun-like foot at the centre of her attackers chest and kicked him off, sending the boy careening into the brunette. Her entire body screamed with pain, but she managed to keep her agony to herself.

"Hey!" Snapped the brunette sharply, "What's your problem?"

"Leave it Bobby," said the blonde getting to his feet, pulling Bobby up with him. "It was my fault. I knocked her down."

"That doesn't give her the right to kick you Sam!" Bobby retorted fiercely, "Who the heck are you anyway?"

"Her name is Katja," butted in a new voice, tone gruff and displeased, "And Cannonball's right, it was his fault."

Stepping past the pair, Logan reached down, holding a hand out toward the girl, but with a scowl, the young mutant ignored the help and hauled herself upright, wincing when it hurt her to do so.

"How did you sleep kid," Logan asked, disregarding her bad mood.

"I slept," was Katja's wary reply "Then again, it was the sedative that made sure of that wasn't it?"

Logan blinked, a rare burst of surprise changing his features, "How could you tell?"

"I just knew."

Sam and Bobby listened into the conversation for about five seconds more, until Logan barked at them to get moving. They had a Danger room session before bed. Katja didn't bother asking what that entailed and leaving the brusque mutant scolding the boys, the blue furred youth made her way downstairs and followed a bunch of animated chatter to a kitchen that could only be described as chaotic for that time of the evening. Several youngsters were moving around, some in pyjamas, others eating as fast as possible while doing homework.

Katja didn't recognise a lot of them, except for Hank, Alex and Remy who were sat at one corner of the table with a bald man and a white-haired woman.

"Katja, good evening," called out the man once he noticed the girl, smiling pleasantly at her. "I am Charles Xavier. I trust you slept well?"

The ruckus was quick to die down, and several of the students were gaping at her, used to it she ignored them. "Good evening and I slept fine thank you," she said after a moment, showing she could indeed be polite when she wanted to be and not just when she was in a forest in the process of giving birth.

Jerking, Katja looked down and found a kid of only about twelve holding her tail and staring at in fascination.

"Wow," the boy exclaimed, "you're like a big blue furred cat!"

She probably shouldn't have, but she couldn't help it. A nasty snarl tore up her throat and the boy stupid enough to get too close, stumbled away from her gnashing sharp teeth, eyes wide.

"Don't touch," hissed Katja angrily.

The ferocious growls died down before she turned back toward the rest of her audience. Xavier looked annoyed, but Katja didn't care in the slightest. She was defensive now, frightened and wary and for several minutes a wicked silence fell, until Ororo the white haired beauty set a plate down piled with eggs and bacon. Reaching toward Katja with a warm smile, the African beauty asked calmly, "hungry?"

Katja flinched away from her touch, but nodded at her question. "Yes please," she barely whispered.

Through Ororo's encouragement, within minutes, Katja was enjoying some proper food and once everyone got over their shock, they got back to their activities.

Xavier studied the girl casually over his coffee mug, noting her hunched appearance. Her elfin ears twitched nervously and Xavier noted she had a habit of lifting and dropping her tail almost subconsciously. Her movements were jittery; she resented physical contact of any kind and her yellow irises darted over her surroundings on a constant basis. In short, the girl was scared out of her wits.

"How did you come to be in Central Park, heavily pregnant?" Xavier asked abruptly.

Startled, Katja swallowed the last of her bacon and carefully set down her knife and fork. Shrugging her shoulders the girl ran her hand through her blue-black hair, the gesture clearly filled with anxiety.

"Look, I know where this is going, so let me save you the trouble. For the last two years I was held against my will…But I'll spare you the gory details," Katja said, becoming shakier the more she spoke, "I was starved, beaten and I don't know why. I thought he cared and yet he ended up hurting me in ways you wouldn't even see in your nightmares…"

A hush fell and it was horrible. Katja didn't realise she was crying until Ororo set a handkerchief in front of her. The shakes came, like they tended to when she was overwhelmingly upset, and it took three tries for her to grasp the hankie. She wiped the tears away roughly and attempted to collect herself, breathing in and out until the panic attack subsided and the trembling ceased.

When Ororo set a large glass of water down in front of her, Katja smiled weakly at her and took it gratefully.

"Thank you," croaked the mutant once she had guzzled down its contents.

"I didn't intend on upsetting you," Xavier said once the goings-on resumed and most of the students left to go get ready for bed, "We'll need to know where you were kept."

"Why?" Katja demanded angrily, "It's hardly relevant."

Logan snorted and parked himself directly beside Katja.

"Cut the crap kid, next you'll tell us you can't remember."

Katja scowled at the brusque mutant, "I'm not ready for this conversation. If and only _if_ I want to tell you about what happened to me in detail, I will. But you could at least let me make that choice."

Xavier nodded in understanding, folding his hands casually before him.

"I suppose you have that right," the Professor began carefully, "but you will have to tell us eventually. If there are people out there harming mutants, and this isn't simply an isolated incident, I want to know about them."

Katja glowered darkly and opened her mouth to argue, only to think better of it. With a reluctant shrug, her only sign of acceptance, the female got to her feet and went to the sink with her plate, dropping it into the sudsy water for washing, wondering briefly what she may have gotten into. With nothing else to do with herself, the young woman headed down to the infirmary she had only been in hours before and made her way across the room to the small bundle in the plastic incubator, monitors setting off a sweet song about her.

"Hello _meine blume_," Katja greeted with a warm smile brightening her exhausted face and lifting one circular catch to reach in and touch her. "I've decided on a name for you, would you like to hear it? Arabella Wagner. I thought of it and it just suits you, you know?"

"It's a lovely name _petit_."

It took all of Katja's self control not to jump violently. Toppling the incubator would do her infant daughter no good and extracting her hand, the furry female turned toward the man who had helped bring Arabella into the world and who was responsible for saving both their lives. It didn't, however, encourage her to withhold her biting attitude.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to sneak up on people?"

Remy gave her a devious grin, not the slightest bit phased by her sudden temper and swaning into the room the Cajun swept his fedora from his head in a sweeping bow, "forgive me _ébène, _I didn't mean t' startle y'. How are y' feelin'?"

"Did they ask you to check up on me after my little meltdown?"

Remy shook his head, "No _petit_, I just wanted t' make sure y'r alright. I can go if y' want _Cher_?"

Before Katja can respond, the infirmary doors were thrown open and Hank rushed in as if chased, his expression panicked, "I just got off the phone with Scott. Spencer's been hurt, poisoned with Pow-R8, ETA in ten minutes."

Remy cursed viciously and anarchy ensued.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

Without a single hesitation Scott began CPR. It wouldn't make a difference, but he needed to keep the oxygen flowing until Rogue returned. So absorbed in keeping the unconscious youth alive, he didn't even look up when Rogue skidded back into the room and dropped the medi-kit next to Jean who was immediately setting to work.

"Scott move back, I'll have to intubate."

Scott pulled his hands back and he was white as a sheet. Spencer's team wore identical horrified expressions. Efficiently Jean easily cleared Spencer's airway and guided the tube into his trachea, attaching the BVM bag.

"Jubilee, come here, I need you to keep pumping the bag okay? That's it sweetie, very good." Jean encouraged. "Okay, eh...?"

"Morgan, Derek Morgan," Morgan introduced white faced when Jean turned toward him.

"Can you carry him please?"

Morgan nodded and moving to Spencer's left side he lifted the boy as carefully as he could, while Jubilee kept control of the BVM bag, eyes narrowed in concentration. Spencer was horribly lax in his arms and the heat pumping off him was inhuman and the fact that the kid he had known for years was the very mutant they were after was also mind-boggling, but could certainly wait until a later date. On Jean's orders, Morgan followed her and the rest of her team out to of all things a colossal jet, sleek and black, looming over them.

"Whoever's coming, get on board," Scott barked darting up the staircase, "I've no time to argue, not with Spencer's life on the line."

Morgan wasn't going to cause a problem. He'd follow the man to hell if it meant saving Spencer's life. The kid's skin possessed a strangely ethereal glow, and the only reason Morgan even noticed it? It was pulsing, fading in and out like a flickering light and that scared the Agent. It was amazing how the FBI agents could just go with it when the need arose. No one questioned the one named Scott. They all boarded the Blackbird single file and while Jubilee and Morgan worked to keep Spencer breathing, Scott started up the engines, the great machine purring to life.

"Jean, stay with Jubilee and the Agent, Rogue call the mansion, get Hank to prep, Spencer's been poisoned with Pow-R8."

"Ya got it Cyke."

Jean made her way toward Morgan and Jubilee and crouched reaching for Spencer's limp wrist. Her mouth pulled into a hard line, "Scott, put all you can into the thrusters, Spencer's pulse is weakening."

"Damn it!" Scott cursed, his calm demeanour slipping slightly. "Only snowflake could get poisoned!"

"Ya know, if he was awake, y'all would be in a world of hurt sugah' for that snowflake remark," Rogue pointed out gently trying to lighten the mood, "'member the last time?"

Scott flinched, "He, eh, lifted me about ten feet into the air with his telekinesis and wouldn't let me down until I apologised. Christ, he was barely nineteen at that point."

The BAU listened in complete confusion. Who were these people and how did their favourite, lovable genius know them? Naturally they had their suspicions. Vigilante mutants running to another mutant's rescue, Hotch and the others would bet their life savings they were the infamous X-Men and the Agents weren't sure where they stood. They quite possibly, just landed themselves in a world of trouble. The jet cut through the deep sapphire sky and within fifteen minutes they reached their destination. On arrival a man covered in blue fur, a muscled blonde and a tall red and black eyed man surrounded them, the one with the blue fur barking orders as Spencer was transferred to a gurney.

"Jean, get him on a drip. We need to start him on fluids and I need a blood test, I don't want to worsen the problem if I give him the wrong dosage of antidote. Hank McCoy," he introduced vaguely to the gathered BAU before darting after Remy and Scott.

The doors closed behind them and though the team itched to go after them, they stayed put. Jubilee and Rogue were swift to vanish and they were left alone with the brutish blonde, who was eyeing them with mild distrust and a small dose of curiosity. He was dressed in a uniform just like the others and there was something a little familiar about him that none of the team could place. After a few more minutes of intense scrutiny, the blonde gestured for them to follow him through a different door that lead down a brightly lit corridor where together they piled into a lift. This was all done in silence. In honesty Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, JJ and Emily were sort of in shock. A man they had known for years had turned out to be a mutant and was gravely injured in the one night and if they were being honest with themselves, the group were pissed! How could Spencer keep such a thing from them? They were friends!

"Come on," the blonde said once they were free from the tight confines of the elevator, "I need coffee, or something fucking stronger and you need an explanation, name's Alex by the way, Alex Summers and I'm one of Spencer's older brother's."

It was almost comical how the agents lurched to a complete stop, with expressions that were even funnier despite the situation. Spencer had brothers? Since when! Pulling themselves out of their stupor, they caught up with Alex just in time to follow him into a large kitchen and they weren't alone. A rather gruff looking man stood by the large bay windows looking out at the lit up grounds, while a white haired woman and blue furred woman sat talking at the table. The second they entered, their attention quickly swivelled toward them.

"How is he?" The white haired woman asked, eyes briefly moving toward the BAU team before she reached for the kettle.

"Not good Ororo, he was hit with a particularly high dose of Pow-R8, he went into distress and Jean had to intubate."

"Shit," the gruff man cursed stalking toward the table sapphire eyes darting over the out of place team. His next question was directed toward them. "How'd he get hurt? The Glow worm is well able to mind himself, it's not often someone gets an upper hand on him."

"Logan," Ororo admonished shaking her head, "Must you call him Glow worm?"

"He glows," Logan answered with a shrug.

"Victor Creed," Morgan said interrupting the conversation, "We were after him and well, I don't know, the kid went still and a distracted look came over his face. The next thing, Creed stabbed his leg with a syringe and now here we are."

Alex, Logan nor Ororo noticed, but the trained profilers did. The blue furred woman had gone completely rigid at the mention of Victor Creed. Her luminous yellow eyes widened in fear and her three-fingered hands clenched about the mug of hot chocolate she was drinking. They all knew the signs of an abuse victim and with silent signals, it was JJ who approached. Logan and Alex who had been cursing viciously over Creed halted their conversation and watched the blonde woman vaguely curious. JJ took the seat nearest to the girl and this close she was horribly aware of her haggard appearance. The poor thing had clearly been through hell recently. With a gentle smile, JJ linked her hands in front of her and spoke softly.

"I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau of the FBI, but you call me JJ if you like."

The girl was nervous, and she pulled away from JJ a silent warning not to come too close and one the blonde was sadly familiar with. She looked the woman over for a few minutes her tail moving back and forth behind her an obvious signs of her nerves.

"I am Katja, Katja Wagner." The girl introduced.

JJ smiled, "You know Victor Creed?" It wasn't really a question and she didn't intend it to be.

"Y-Yes," Katja swallowed, "He brought me here from Germany four years ago. I...I was attacked by a mob of people who believed I was a demon and Victor came to my rescue. Eventually we became lovers, but Victor grew volatile and when I saw him kill a man, I tried to leave but he held me against my will and everything changed."

JJ nodded in sympathy, "He's after something Katja. At first we thought it was Spencer, but now we know it's something else. He may be after you."

"N-No," Katja whimpered shaking her head, "Not just me, he's after Arabella."

"I was right," Logan said before JJ could ask who Arabella was, "The pup, she's Creed's?"

"Yes, Arabella is Victor's daughter and that's who he's after. It's why I was running when you and Remy found me." Katja dragged a hand through her messy curls. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's my fault he went after your friend."

"No it's not," Alex grunted stepping away from the countertop he was leaning against, "Creed regularly plays the whole cat and mouse crap with my brother. Creed is a self righteous bastard. He sees you two as property and he intends to get his property back."

"Arabella and you are safe here child," Ororo told the trembling youth gently.

"Thank you."

"So, with that out of the way," Morgan began swiftly changing the subject, "Care to go back and explain the whole brother thing?"

"First off, what has Spook told you himself?"

"That his parents are Diana and William Reid. William walked out when he was ten and Diana's in the Bennington Sanatorium. We've met both, no mentions of any other children."

"Diana and William aren't Spencer's birth parents. Our birth parents were killed in a plane crash when Spencer was just a baby. Scott and I are Spencer's older brothers." Alex grabbed a soda from the fridge and settled himself at the table gesturing for the team to take a seat each. "Diana and William adopted Spencer and when Diana got sicker, Spencer did all he could, but child services caught on and he ended up back in foster care when he was twelve. Now don't get me wrong, he got lucky, even if the McGuire's and other kids were total ass-hats to him, but they fed, housed and educated him until he was eighteen then Spencer came to live here with us until he entered the academy." Alex frowned. "I'm surprised he didn't tell you about being a mutant, that guy Gideon knew."

"What?" Hotch spluttered. "He told Gideon?"

"Well, sort of, see just before he entered the academy he was still going around as himself, so Gideon saw him in all his Spooky glory before he was given the holo-watch that hid his true appearance." Alex winced. "Not a fun time for the half-pint."

"No," Logan growled, "I still say Scott should've let me at those number one A-Holes."

"Oh he was tempted, but what kind of message would that have sent out to our students?" Ororo scolded.

"Yeah well, they learnt the hard way; ya don't mess with a Summers and walk away unscathed." Alex grinned with pride, "Took them three months to stop having nightmares!"

Logan chuckled, "Didn't Chuck and Fearless rip him a new one for that stunt?"

"Yeah and then I took him out to celebrate afterward! Don't look at me like that Ororo, the creeps deserved it and all Spencer did was made a few illusions of their greatest fears." Alex shrugged his shoulders. "He could've easily done worse."

Hotch and the rest watched the back and forth slightly confused. Katja didn't appear to know what was going either as the trio recalled memories they weren't a part of. They were finally interrupted when Morgan's cell phone rang, buzzing in his pocket. Stepping from the room, Morgan stepped out into the hall.

"Morgan?"

_"Where in the holy hell are you?!"_

Was the shrill response, and with a wince Morgan jerked the phone away from his ear, "Easy mama, no need to shout!"

_"No need to shout? Derek! As of thirty-four minutes ago all of you vanished off the damn grid! Something's blocking your cell phones, I can't track you! I had a couple of cops go out to that location and they couldn't find you, so I shall repeat, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"_

"In a safe place, eh, I'm pretty sure we're at the headquarters of the X-Men."

A brief silence followed, _"Excuse me, you're _where_?"_

"Long story baby girl, but eh, we did find Ghost."

_"You did, where, how, oh my Gosh!"_

"Penelope, Spencer is Ghost."

_"W-What, no, no Morgan that can't be right,"_ the bubbly tech analyst argued, _"We've known him for years!"_

"He's been hiding it quite skilfully, but it's the same kid mama, and he...We ran into Creed and he got hurt."

_"Oh shit, no, that son of a bitch I'll tear him apart! What did he do to my baby?"_

Morgan scrubbed a hand over his face planting his head back against the wall, "poison baby girl, he...shit Garcia, he stopped breathing."

_"Oh God, oh God, where are you? You should be at a hospital!"_

"They have their own medical facility here baby girl. He's in good hands and I don't think it's in his best interest for him to go to an ordinary hospital, not with all the mutant hysteria going around."

_"Yeah, yeah you're right."_ Garcia swallowed audibly a weak sob wiggling free. _"I'll, eh; I'll stay here and hold down the fort. You'll ring me as soon as you've got word on his condition?"_

"I promise baby girl," Morgan replied before hanging up and taking a moment to just breathe.

They weren't sure if Penelope was out of the woods yet. Sure it was obvious Creed had no real desire to go after Spencer, but Unsub's were unpredictable at the best of times. Creed could still want Penelope's head on a platter, "Agent?"

Head jerking around Derek relaxed, it was the red head Jean, "How is he?"

Jean smiled warmly, "Stable. If you get the others you can see him."

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

Spencer was asleep, chest rising and falling in calm succession, breathing by the assistance of a machine. Bruises littered his pale skin here and there, and all manner of tubes snaked free from his body. It was a shocking sight. The BAU team, Scott, Alex and the Cajun named Remy all stood about his bed with solemn expressions.

"Beast got de antidote into him in time," Remy explained gently, "it's up t' de _petit_ now t' do de rest."

"What the hell is Pow-R8 anyway?" Hotch questioned grimly, he had never heard of it.

"A sports drink," Scott answered, "It was developed a year ago, but when the mixed ingredients proved lethal to mutants, it was taken off the market and the creator did everything he could to make it disappear. Obviously some got their hands on it and they use it now as a weapon. Spencer is lucky, his body is stronger than most, anyone else would've died."

Even now a steady glow covered the boy's alabaster skin which according the gathered mutants was a very good sign. He appeared comfortable, but he twitched in his sleep, brow drawn down.

"Rems, what's his shields like?"

"Low Scotty, I'm shielding him de best I can, but y' know de _petit _empathy is a lot stronger den mine. I can't stop him from feelin' everything _Cher_."

"Alright, nobody touch him skin to skin, it'll only make it worse." Scott ignored the irritated faces of the FBI agents. He cared only for his baby brother and they could act as offended as they wanted.

"If I know Spook, he'll be up and about by tomorrow," Alex said determined.

"And he'll be kickin' y'r ass f' calling him Spook!" Remy teased.

"Bite me Cajun."

"Wait till we're alone _Cher_," Remy purred, "I'll bite y' den."

"Remy!" Alex yelped the colour draining from his face, his tone making the others laugh. "Jesus Wolverine, will you reign that menace in?"

"What makes you think Gumbo listens to me?"

"Dis Cajun hardly listens t' anyone. Ain't Scotty mad at me half de week to prove dat?"

When the door squeaked open, the group twisted and cast a look toward the newcomer. Katja stiffened, a flush darkening her furry cheeks, "Forgive me, I, um, was just checking in on Arabella and I thought I'd come next door to see how your friend was doing?"

"Better, thanks Katja," Scott said with a smile.

Bounding toward the bed with a surprising grace, the youth stopped by the edge of the bed and sighed sadly when she got a gander at the hardware hanging off the sleeping man. He was stunningly beautiful, like an angel really and murmuring a soft prayer in German the female reached out and touched his blanketed leg. She jerked back with a sharp yelp when a current went through the mutant, the machinery about him going haywire and eyes burst opened, the bright electric blue finding her face, eyes that Katja had seen so many times in her dreams.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

**_New York City, One Week Ago:_**

_/Katja blinked. She knew she was in a dream, it was just one of those times that she knew, but she was a spectator to it all because her dream self knew exactly what was going on and she wasn't in control. Dream Katja looked between the three women and wondered if merely playing dumb would help, but that would be rather foolish and her servants—Ha servants only in her dreams!—were not stupid. So with a reserved sigh she smiled and asked, "So what do you want to know?" The real Katja had no clue what was going on!_

_"For one, why are you flinching?" Said the eldest servant, Greta her brain supplied._

_Her dream self had hoped that wouldn't come up, "I, eh, had a slight run in with a man named Victor Creed." Ah, now she could see where all of this was stemming from. Her recent trouble with her lover turned abuser._

_All three women went completely rigid. In fact Greta looked as if she were about to be severely ill, "What did he do?" The question was practically forced out and the brunette was shaking fiercely._

_"Whipped me, after, I accidently insulted the Prince," Katja answered a frown knitting her brow, "are you three okay?"_

_Greta crouched suddenly and took Katja's hand in her own, a hand that always looked perfectly normal in her dreams, "He...He never touched you in your privates?"_

_It dawned on Katja what they were asking. "N-No." She croaked shocked. "Is Victor so inclined to rape young women?" Oh God, her brain was thoroughly taunting her now!_

_"Unfortunately M'lady," said her servant Naomi gently, "he has a tendency to bed women, leave them swollen with child and not claim them once they're born too."_

_"Aye, and you'd be best staying away from him," Greta finished, "you're a pretty maid and pigs like Victor are drawn to such beauty." A twinkle spread throughout the young woman's warm irises. "Now, about the Prince...?"_

_"Oh that was mortifying!" Katja groaned—while the real Katja was sat in the back of her mind thoroughly nonplussed, "He brought me back to the palace to clean up my wounds."_

_"Oh!" Naomi gushed in delight, "And did you truly sing for him?"_

_"That was an accident. I was singing to distract myself while his healer tended to me and he overheard." Katja swallowed._

_It was just getting more and more confusing, but dreams like this always were. It was best just to go with it._

_Katja headed for the meadows. Greta wanted her to gather wildflowers for all the rooms and the meadow was full of beautiful blooms, and though she was the lady of the house, she was always willing to help Greta. She wasn't exactly a florist, but she could at least put together a decent bouquet. The meadow was a distance from the manor and secluded by huge oak trees. Katja could've screamed at the top of her lungs and no one would've heard her. Of course that wasn't necessarily a good thing._

_"Pretty flowers," said a voice and surging upright Katja spun around to find the infamous Victor. His smile was handsome yet screamed danger. "Katja isn't it?"_

_"I, eh, yes milord it is." One hand full of flowers Katja awkwardly curtsied, "Are you in need of assistance?" Her heart pounded and the youth backed away a step. If it called for it, she'd run._

_"No, no assistance," Creed said his dark eyes practically removing her clothing, "I wanted to apologise to you for what happened."_

_"Oh, well no need after all you were perfectly within your rights," Katja smiled timidly moving back another step, "I hope you don't think me rude milord, but I really have to go."_

_Just like that Creed's attitude changed and what was a weird dream became a nightmare. His hand snatched forward and Katja let out a hiss when his fingers bit painfully into her upper arm. He yanked her against his body and Katja paled when against her belly she felt the hard rigidness that was the man's heavy sex, "You earned me a chewing out by the King, he stripped me of my Captain's title." Hissed the guard shaking her violently making her marks on her back sing, "You've cost me half my weekly wage!"_

_"I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't—"_

_Creed reached down and pressed her body flush against him grinding against her, "you can make it up to me Katja. You are a delectable little beauty and I'm dying to sink into you."_

_Katja squirmed violently, her sunny eyes wide with panic and with nothing else she struck out. Victor bellowed and hit the ground with a heavy thud going almost cross-eyed after taking a vicious strike to his genitals. Eyes teary he scrambled to his feet by sheer force of will and barrelled after the petite female, "You bitch!"_

_Katja stumbled and fell to her knees with a yelp when her ankle caught in a hole and twisted. She knew a sprain when she felt one and already the limb had begun to swell. Whimpering she tried to get upright but Creed was already on her ripping her upright. Screaming as loud as she could Katja kicked and hit. She was positively feral, fighting as fiercely as she could even when Creed pinned her body and began tugging up her skirts. Naturally he powers didn't exist, why were her own mind make it easy for her. It was no use, he was too heavy and strong and so sobbing hoarsely Katja closed her eyes and waited for it to be over. His hands had just found her undergarments when he jerked violently and when a horribly gurgling sound escaped him, Katja looked up her eyes blowing wide._

_Ghost stood over them both expression positively livid and a dying Creed skewered on the end of his sword. Ghost tossed the man as if he weighed nothing, ripping his blade free. For a moment more Victor jerked, his blood rapidly staining his tunic and after a second more he went still pallor turning ashen. Breathing hard Katja jumped when Ghost touched her whimpering in distress._

_"Easy, easy Katja," The Prince said gently pulling her to her feet, "I have you."_

_Sobbing Katja threw her arms about the Prince's middle. Her true self automatically recognised him down to his very core, even if her dream self didn't. Ghost wrapped his arms around the woman, cradling her and murmuring gentle words until her sobs subsided. Reeling in her control, the embarrassment wriggling its way in, Katja stepped back and that turned out to be a mistake. Pain ripped up her right leg making her cry out and if it wasn't for Ghost's hands on her she surely would've fallen._

_"M-My ankle," she said shakily, "I-I think it's sprained."_

_"Come on, I better carry you."_

_Great, just great, but her leg hurt too much to argue and naturally she was covered in Creed's blood! This was going to be one hell of a thing to explain to the household. Silently Katja accepted the help and curled up in Ghost's arms, dream or no dream, she relished the contact._

_"In the name of all that is holy, Katja what did you do!" Greta exclaimed once Ghost had carried the trembling girl into the manor. She took a brief moment to bow to the Prince, ignored the other's horrified looks and proceeded to examine the girl, "is this your blood?!"_

_"No, that would be Creed's," Ghost growled, "I ran the bastard through after I found him attempting to rape her."_

_"WHAT?" The exclamation was made by all three women and suddenly Katja was being examined inch by inch._

_"That horrible, horrible man," Naomi scowled catching sight of her swollen ankle, "Kyla, have you anything for this?"_

_"I'll look in my stores."_

_Heading out into the scullery Kyla began rooting around and returned not five minutes later with three small jars of three different oils. Arnica, Eucalyptus and Helichrysum angustifolium also known as Everlasting,combined the trio of oils would lessen the sprain greatly and ease Katja's discomfort. While the young woman worked Katja returned her attention to the Prince._

_"Why are you here? Ow!" She scowled down at Kyla who mouthed manners before dropping her head over her swelled leg._

_Chortling Ghost grabbed a chair and took a seat, "I came to see you again. You ran off without saying goodbye Katja."_

_Like what often happened, the dream began to separate, until it was no longer a dream really, something much too vivid to be a dream. Katja found herself, her midnight fur returned, the heavy weight of her pregnant belly reminding her that what awaited her when she woke were the damp streets of New York. She was in a meadow now, with the moon hung above her, no more servants or Prince and only a few feet away were Ghost, the impish man grinning at her._

_"Whose dream was that?" She asked the youth she had known for quite some time now._

_"Not sure to be honest," Ghost answered, "But I can take a guess. It doesn't take a genius to notice that someone was purging demons in a strange way, you dreamt of a Prince killing Creed for you, and me as that Prince?"_

_Katja cringed, "I, forgive me for that, I know I shouldn't...I'm sorry, I guess I see you as my salvation to an extent."_

_Ghost let out a sigh, "I would help you, you know if you'd just tell me where you are!"_

_"Why not track me?" Katja challenged devilishly._

_"Because I can't," Ghost answered miffed, "I don't know how, but you're blocking me. In a sense you're scrambling your signal."_

_Katja laughed, rubbing her belly, "Not intentionally I might add. I'm no telepath. Plus, I'm no fool; you are merely a figment of my imagination."_

_Ghost didn't bother disputing that, he had tried before and she never believed him. "How is the baby?"_

_"Kicking the hell out of me as usual, it won't be long now."_

_"Yes, and I'd much prefer you to have it in warm and comfortable surroundings."_

_Katja didn't answer; she simply smiled and vanished from the dream, leaving Ghost alone in the meadow they had both come to know as paradise./_

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

**_New York, Xavier Institute, Present Day:_**

Katja could remember with great clarity the first time she ever laid eyes on the white haired boy with cerulean blue eyes. Katja was so very frightened. Most of her days were filled with fear and people willing to call her a demon from hell in order to justify their cruelty. She had been eight when she first dreamt of the boy who called himself Ghost. He had been sixteen and had with one sweep of his hand chased away the darkness of the nightmare clawing at her. He had such a sweet disposition and in her darkest hour had always been there for her, even when Creed's gentle touches had turned to brutal strikes, but like a dream, his face would fade from her mind losing its substantiality until she couldn't tell if it were real or not, no matter how much he swore he was indeed very much real.

And now here he was a tube down his throat, eyes wide and startled.

Spencer wriggled and thrashed, Alex and Scott doing their best to pin the youth down. Remy hollered for Hank and the FBI agents could only look on panicked. Katja stepped out of the way when Hank and Jean burst into the room. Hank ran straight to Spencer, while Jean went to put together a sedative.

_/NO! /_

The loud mental command reverberated throughout the room making those gathered to wince, while the BAU team were left slightly stunned. None of them had ever communicated with a telepath before. It was odd.

"Spencer," Jean said gently, "you need to calm down."

_/Remove the tube! /_

"Spence—"

_/NOW! /_

Against her better judgement Jean set down the sedative. Hank was already coaxing the tube free, urging Spencer to cough at the appropriate time, while Jean got a glass of water. They just hoped he'd be able to breathe on his own. Spencer dragged in three great harsh breaths. His chest felt heavy, as if he had a particularly nasty chest infection, but he could at least breathe without help. His slightly faster healing, the antidote and of course Spencer's sheer stubbornness were remarkable. He was recovered at a level what a normal human would need a week for.

His brilliant, pupiless hues roved about the room and Spencer flinched. He was completely in all his mutant glory, amongst a family he had kept hidden for years, with his team not a foot away—lovely! His gaze finally settled on Katja. The female was twitching, her tail moving agitatedly and after almost sixteen years of knowing her, Spencer knew she was desperate to be close to him. He was familiar, even if they had never met physically and though the others had been kind, in Katja's mind, he was what was truly safe.

"K-Katja," he finally croaked and that was all she needed.

Making a distressed sound, the lithe mutant scrambled up onto the bed to the shock of the others and threw herself into his arms, clinging on for dear life. She muttered German exclamations and "you're real...you're really real!" Over and over again, Spencer held onto her while the breathless words switched to tears and when she finally collapsed in exhaustion, he shifted her weight till she was comfy, her tail reaching up to curl about his arm as it had often done and satisfied that she was resting, Spencer returned his attention to the rest.

Remy, ever Mr subtle, was the first to speak, "_Merde_, how do y' know de _femme?_ Remy was beginning t' t'ink y' was celibate _Cher!"_

Spencer laughed despite his aching throat, "Oh aren't you a riot? Don't ask me, it sort of happened. We started visiting each other in our dreams about sixteen years ago and we've known each other ever since. Of course Katja never believed I was real and I was unable to track her."

Jean scowled in confusion, "like a telepathic link?"

"No," Spencer frowned, "I—I can't even explain it very well. I've done it before, walked people's dreams by complete accident, but always people I know. It's something I've been able to do since I was a child, but I could never do it wilfully and I've never linked this extensively with someone before that I didn't know."

"Dream walking is something extremely powerful telepaths can develop," Hank supplied thoughtfully, "As for why you're mind sought out Katja _that_ I can't explain."

"Too be honest Hank, I really don't care how it occurred, things happen and I accept them." Spencer dropped his gaze and the profilers gathered were stunned stupid. The love dripping off their friend was almost palpable. "When did she get here?"

"Found her earlier," Remy told him folding his long-legged body on the chair next to Spencer's bed, "She was in de middle of giving birth t' a beautiful pup, named de petit Arabella."

Spencer's jaw dropped, "is the child alright?"

"A little premature," Hank said gently, "Arabella will be in an incubator for a little while."

When a throat was cleared, Spencer looked over. The team was watching him and he knew they wanted to talk, "Eh, can we have a moment?"

"You have your shit Spook!" Alex practically snarled.

"Oh for heaven sake Alexander, calm down! What do you think they'll do? Even injured I can protect myself thank you _very _much!"

"Spencer—"

"God damn it, _Scott_!"

"Ease up Alex," Scott warned before there could be an outright brawl, "back off. These are the kid's friends; they won't hurt him, so chill on the papa bear crap."

"Ha, like you aren't going all tense about leaving the room," Alex laughed.

"True, but unlike you I recognise the fact that Spencer is a grown man."

"Scott, Alex, you're my brothers and you know I love you, but could you please bicker somewhere else?"

Remy chortled getting to his feet, "Come on, and let's leave Penny t' it, it's gonna be an awkward enough conversation wit'out us here t' bother dem."

"Thank you Rems!"

"No problem _petit_. Gonna go find Stormy, me. Can feel her worry 'bout y' _Cher_, goodnight!"

With a grin the mutant shoved the other two Summer's brothers from the room amidst serious protests by Alex mostly; chuckling Hank and Jean were swift to follow and just like that, apart from a snoozing Katja, Spencer was alone with the team.

"I'm sorry," he blurted immediately because above all they deserved an apology, "I couldn't tell you, for my own safety and yours."

"Easy pretty boy," Morgan began gently, "We get it, honestly. As much as we would have liked to know, we understand why you couldn't tell us."

About ten degrees of tension drained from the youth and he settled back against his pillows, careful not to jostle Katja. The glances he was getting were of curiosity. They're certainly was no malice on their faces and if his shields weren't so low, the mutant would have attempted to gauge their emotions, but as it stood that would be a very bad idea.

"So," Morgan grinned taking the seat Remy had been sat in only minutes before, "by what we saw back at the warehouse, you could truly hold yourself in a fight, huh kid?"

Spencer chuckled grinning at his friend, "When I'm out of this bed we can put it to the test if you like?"

"Oh, you are so on pretty boy!"

Spencer laughed a little more and settled back against his plump pillows at his head. He was drained beyond belief. The cure was working through his body to fix the damage and it was leaving him tired. Half drifting he asked, "are you going back to the station?"

"We have to," Hotch explained, "technically we still have a case to tend to and I'm sure Garcia is quite frantic."

"Frantic is putting it mildly," Morgan snorted.

Spencer's lids drooped, "go...I'll see you guys later...'Kay?"

He never heard an answer. Dreamland had already claimed him.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

Penelope Garcia had never been so wound up in all her life. The team had disappeared off the grid only to turn up again with the information that not only was Reid hurt, but that her sweet vanilla bunny was that same scrawny kid from all those years ago. In truth she was still at the processing stage and had paced a hole in the floor throughout her inner monologues. After Morgan's phone call it was easier to relax, but only by a small degree. She was a natural born worrier after all. A torturous amount of time later the doors to the dead as a graveyard NYPD slid opened and Garcia felt immense relief at the sight of the team.

"Thank God, honestly, you want to kill me!"

"Sorry baby girl," Morgan apologised giving her a brief hug.

"How's Reid?"

"Sleeping when we left," JJ supplied with a weary smile, "he's quick to bounce back."

"Uh huh, yes well not to be rude, but conference room now. I want an explanation about the whole mutant tid bit that my vanilla bunny never bothered to mention."

Amused the team followed the wound up tech analyst and only when they were safe and snug inside the conference room did they bother to talk, while Rossi and Hotch went to update the NYPD team. Morgan sat Garcia down and pushed a mug of tea into her hands.

"I need you to keep calm okay baby girl, you know you tend to get frantic when it comes to Reid."

Garcia nodded, "Gotcha."

"We went to the warehouse and our Unsub was waiting for us. His name is Victor Creed and he's a mutant. He attacked Reid and, well, I'm not sure what happened, but he suddenly changed and looked just like an older version of that kid Ghost."

"Yes, well, my baby boy will be getting an ass whooping for that," Garcia informed him lightly, "continue."

Amused Derek shook his head before continuing, "Creed got a strike in and drugged Reid with something lethal to mutants called pow-r8, and then one of his brothers showed up—"

"Oh my God, that's right! Ghost, I mean, Reid told me about his brother's!"

"—And he and his team got us out of there and got Reid treatment." Morgan sighed. "The kid's exhausted, but he'll be okay Pen, I promise."

Garcia let out the breath she hadn't even realised she was holding. So many thoughts at once were going through her mind. One in particular danced close to the forefront. Spencer Reid was Ghost! How in the name of all that was right with the world did she of all people miss _that?!_ But she had, which clearly meant Spencer had not wanted to be discovered and with the current view on mutants, she couldn't really blame him.

The doors opened and Rossi and Hotch stepped in. Both men looked as weary as the rest, but that was understandable.

"Well Hotch," JJ asked, "is there still a case?"

"They'll give us another two days, but if we can't turn up anything substantial then we're off the case."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Alex said carefully, "We're no match for Creed. We saw that after he tackled Reid."

It was hard to admit. Truly it was. But they were no fools. No point in going up against something they couldn't fight and calling it a night the team headed back to their hotel with thoughts of soft beds and a time to escape to their dreams.

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

Victor Creed rarely drank. With his metabolism it was pretty pointless. But sometimes the occasion just called for it, like now. Taking Ghost's ass down had brought a smile to his face but he was still without his pregnant mate. The bitch had been one step ahead of him and he was getting fed up. He needed to find her before the child was born, their child! Why he even cared, Creed didn't know, but in some messed up way he loved her and the pup growing within her womb. With a gravelly growl the feral reached for his beer and gave a start when a refill was placed in front of him by a perfectly dainty, lily white hand. Creed's eyes followed the limb up to a rather stunning woman. She was slim, with just the right curves, flowing blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. When his attention zeroed in on her the female smiled and was it just Creed or was there something feral about it?

"Can I help you?" Creed growled out.

Once upon a time he'd have found the nearest spot and mounted her, but it would seem, he had Katja on the brain, because he hadn't an inch of interest in the voluptuous female.

"Actually, I think it's us who could help you."

Creed spun around and set his dark black eyes on the last face he expected to see, "Magneto!"

"Never thought you'd see my face again?" Magneto questioned mildly amused.

With Magneto stood in front of him, looking as normal as all hell in a crisp suit, Creed put two and two together and figured blondie behind him was Mystique. They were in a public place, but Sabretooth was never one to care about that kinda crap and like clever little drinkers, the rest of the pub goers copped and were quickly vacating the premises. The bartender looked as if he was ready to speak up and then Mystique decided to show her true form. He was quick to back off once she sauntered passed him in all her blue glory.

"Long time, no see Victor," Mystique purred coyly. Goddamn, had Victor been crazy enough to bed her? Yup, he had.

"Can't see I'm glad to see you Raven," Creed growled.

Mystique grimaced at the sound of her birth name, but said nothing. Victor turned toward Magneto black eyes filled with irritation. "Any particular reason you're here?"

"Well I could waffle on about hey how are you, what have you been doing all these years, but I think I'll just cut to the chase." Magneto whipped off his hat and took a seat on one of the bar stools. "A little bird told me you are looking for Katja Wagner."

Victor folded his arms across his chest, "And?"

"She is the daughter of Azazel and Mystique."

She was WHAT?! Oh could he not get a break! Of all the people to find their way into his bed and it just _had_ to be Mystique's pup, Creed grinded his teeth repeating, "And?"

A dangerous smile crossed Magneto's face, "I require a favour—"

Creed snorted, "Naturally."

"And in return, I will help you retrieve Nightcrawler."

Creed's gaze narrowed, black eyes moving between the two mutants, "What sort of favour?"

"You are aware of the youngest Summer's boy?"

"Ghost, yeah, we've crossed paths."

"That is what I want," Magneto stated, "I want the boy and when he is delivered to me; I will help you retrieve your mate."

"Any particular reason you're lookin' for that glow worm?"

Magneto chuckled, "Do you think I'd actually tell you?"

"Nope, but no harm in asking," Creed shrugged, "Alright tin man, you gotta a deal. Any ideas on how I can take his ass down? I'm presuming the glowing bastard is still alive if you are both here asking for him."

"Yes, we heard about your little spat and according to my sources he survived, as for how to get him, I find bait always works."

A dangerous smirk lit up Creed's face, "And I got just the little fishy."

* * *

~X§X§X~

* * *

The first thing Katja knew when she woke was that she was warm and comfortable. With a sigh she burrowed in deeper, which in turn made her very LIVE bed chuckle beneath her. Startled the young female jerked upright but relaxed almost immediately when she recognised the body beneath her. Ghost looked drained, tubes snaking from his slender body, but his mischievous grin was as bright as ever.

"Morning sleepy head," he croaked tiredly and Katja couldn't help it. Bursting into tears the blue furred mutant curled against him and sobbed heavily. "Hey, hey I have you, its okay everything's going to be okay."

Katja cried until she had no more tears, only hiccupped breaths and for a time she stayed snuggled into Spencer's warm weight, the odd sniffle escaping her every now and then. Patient as ever Spencer waited while she had her emotional meltdown, reeled herself back in and reclaimed her senses. He smiled when he finally heard her embarrassed groan. Katja crawled off the bed and straightened herself, running a hand through her blue black curls. Yellow eyes finally found Spencer's face and the glowing mutant grinned.

"Feel better?"

"I feel like an idiot."

Spencer laughed, "Katja, you're body is rampant with hormones after a recent birth, give yourself a break."

Okay, it was stupid, but Katja felt weird around him all of a sudden. She shouldn't, not really, but she _had_ been telling herself for sixteen years that the man in the hospital bed didn't exist. He watched her, his familiar electric blue hues studying her every move, but he didn't speak.

"I am so freaked right now," Katja eventually blurted out planting her hands on her hips, "I was so used to you being a figment of my imagination this is crazy!"

"I know it's a bit to take in," Spencer said gently, "But I did try to tell you."

"I know, I know," Katja replied frazzled, "I guess I just didn't want to believe it; because if it became real well...then it became something to lose and I...I couldn't handle that."

"I'm not going anywhere Katja, I promise."

"What's your name? I mean your real name." She had heard Beast say it, but she wanted it from him.

Spencer smiled, "its Spencer Reid."

"Spencer, it suits you." Hesitant for just a moment, Katja scrambled back up onto the bed and coiled her legs beneath her, head tilting, "I'm so sorry Victor hurt you."

"It was a lucky shot; I'm already feeling a great deal better."

"That doesn't matter, you shouldn't have been hurt!"

Spencer smiled, "You do realise it was a completely unrelated incident and you are not responsible for the fact I was hurt?"

Katja didn't believe that. For years she was able to keep Creed placated and in a twisted, messed up Norman Bates sort of way, the German knew he loved her—not that that was healthy of course! Wrapping her arms about her middle, wincing when she still hurt in certain places, the blue furred beauty hopped off Spencer's bed and paced. Her tail swayed irritably back and forth and like he had done so often in the past, Spencer reached out and grabbed her tail tugging it once, twice.

"Tell me what's on your mind Blue."

Katja smiled at the nickname, "I can't help but think if I stayed with Creed, maybe you could've been spared and...He wouldn't have hurt those people." Katja swallowed. "He's blood thirsty, but it wasn't as often with me there. In a bizarre way, my presence spared lives."

"No Blue," Spencer said with a pained expression, "you shouldn't have to sacrifice your happiness because of someone like Creed. There is no method to what he does and you and Arabella could have eventually become victims too."

"Me possibly, but I don't know about Arabella. He was excited about her impending birth, always cuddling my belly and such."

"Not to burst your bubble Blue, but Creed is a sociopath, he lacks empathy." Spencer reminded her gently. "I know it hurts to hear that, because at a time you loved him, part of you still might, but—"

"I stopped loving Creed a long time ago," Katja interrupted, "I...I stopped loving him around the time that I started falling for someone else."

Spencer couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealously, "Oh, who?"

Katja nervously gripped her tail and turned to face him. He had been something for her to find comfort in; a figment to clutch to and then eventually, she had come to love him, even thinking he was merely something her mind had concocted. Her yellow eyes roved, looking everywhere bar his face while Katja made the confession she had held close for so long, "I fell in love with you."

Spencer the articulate, always had a word for everything was struck completely dumb. Of all the things he had expected her to say, that was _not_ one of them. He had loved Katja for years, had tried not to hence Maeve and look how that had ended up!—A fact no one at the mansion knew. But even loving Maeve, he couldn't deny what he had felt and would always feel for Katja. His cerulean blues widened, and an absolute shit eating grin transformed his face. "Do you know how long I've wanted to hear that?"

Katja smiled timidly, "R-Really?"

Spencer nodded reaching toward her, "Yes, really. I love you too Katja."

It was just so natural to take his hand. Warm fur gliding against slightly unnaturally warm skin and allowing Spencer to guide her, Katja climbed back up onto the gurney and nestled in close to him. Spencer dipped his head and with a smile Katja closed the distance between them and the kiss was the be all and end all. Katja was no shy virgin and despite what his friends thought or teased neither was Spencer, but this was something entirely different. It was the beginning of something wonderful. Spencer thoroughly familiarized himself with Katja's mouth. She tasted wonderful, her fur like silk against his pale white lips and when they finally pulled apart they were flushed and grinning like fools.

"Would you, um, would you like to meet Arabella?" Katja asked near half terrified at his possible response.

But she shouldn't have feared it at all because with a warm smile Spencer began pulling himself free of the monitors whilst ignoring Katja's protests. Pulling the needle from the crook of his arm Spencer put it aside and followed Katja from his room into the next one, weak and swaying slightly. The lighting was kept low and in the centre of the room was Arabella's incubator. Spencer followed Katja and looked in on the premature infant. She was tiny, but wouldn't be long in the plastic container. Her fur was sleek, tiny paws and tail twitching and the tube passed through her lips was enough to make Spencer's heart clench, "Her lungs?"

"Not fully developed," Katja said softly, "by the time I arrived here she had almost stopped breathing and Beast had to intubate her." Katja swallowed. "She's getting stronger and Beast said another week and she should be okay to fully breathe on her own."

"I'm sorry Katja." Spencer shook his head. "You should not have gone through this alone."

"It happened, Spencer," Katja replied gently, "And now I get to pick up the pieces and move on and I get to move on with you?"

Spencer smiled at the timid question and bent to kiss Katja's forehead, "you, me and Arabella."

Katja positively beamed and for the first time in a long time, her world didn't feel as if it were at a tilt. Everything was level and even footed, she was safe and she was home.


End file.
